The Bonds that Bind
by Moiranne Rose
Summary: Family ties are forever, aren't they? Murderers must atone for sins and the grievous hurt they caused, starting with the family they left behind. Currently being rewritten.
1. Chapter 0

**Title: The Bonds that Bind**

**Summary: Family ties are forever, aren't they? Even when you are stuck between a recently disbanded AVALANCHE, a broken Midgar, and Turks, struggling to redeem themselves. Even when you've spent the last 4 years trying to rid yourself of them. Even when you're the leader of the Deyanira, and he's a Turk who betrayed you all. **

_Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, but one PSP, one UMD of Crisis Core, this computer, and the OC and her whole gang._

* * *

**Chapter 0: Death and Beginnings**

* * *

Rain beat steadily down and the ground squelched under the weight of uncharacteristic boots and heels. A contingent of black made its slow way up the cliff, towards a white stone. Bells tolled in the distance, somewhere below the plate, at the church in the slums. Though they were supposed to be bells signaling the mass times, happy occasions, they also seemed to be announcing death, the finality of the whole situation.

Thunder crashed in a crescendo of noise. Twenty people crowded round a marble headstone, throwing white flowers onto the mound of dirt. Etched on it was not a name, but a title. It read:

_Fighter,_

_Leader,_

_Deyanira_

Followed by the date of death and birth. One lady stood out from the rest, her hair flaming red and shining, she knelt down and bent her head,but no sobs came. Her garb of black leather was not unlike the men and women that accompanied her. She held in her hand a white rose. Thorns pricked her palm, but she was heedless to the pain, as her blood smeared onto the stem. She reverently lay down the flower, on the top of the small and growing heap that was already there, and stood again.

One by one, the crowd dispersed, till it left two figures standing at the top of the cliff, which had been transformed from the lone tree, to the final resting place of one that shouldn't have died so early.

"Daisha, I'm so sorry."

"I'm fine, Shaina, really."

"Daisha. You haven't been in this state ever since...he left! Don't try to cover up, you're sad and grieving. And have every right to cry."

"Shaina, I told you, do not say his name in my presence! And now that Mother-" she gestured half-heartedly at the grave, "-has died, I am the leader of Deyanira now. So there is no room for _weakness._"

"Daisha! Crying for a reason is no weakness. And you've never faced the past wrongs that you should have long forgiven!"

"Forgiven?" She spat out. "_Forgiven?! _Do you think that could be forgiven? He left, Shaina! LEFT!" _Without me, _she thought inwardly. _Because of me._

"Is it that you can't forgive him? Or is it you can't forgive yourself?" Shaina ventured, having long had enough of her friend's brooding.

"Just leave it, will you? This was supposed to be a memorial service for my mother. Not some good-for-nothing idiot!"

Shaina wisely stopped talking. But she didn't stop looking at Daisha in a way that wasn't entirely comfortable to be looked at.

"Hey! Daisha! Shaina! Come on! Let's go get a drink at Seventh Heaven!" shouted one of their gang members, Faleyn. His sword was stealthily concealed under wraps of finely made leather, though his womanizing ways had long made him more conspicuous then necessary.

Daisha took the opportunity to flee Shaina's probing stares, running down, masking her turmoil of emotions with a fake grin she had perfected over time.

After a few moments, Shaina followed.

Unbeknown to the pair, a third person had been looking on as the funeral had ended. A suit of blue that did nothing to conceal the red hair that had long made him stand out from the crowd. He moved silently and quickly over to the grave, before producing, out of his own coat, a carnation of pure white, to match the many that had been placed before it. His eyes glowed an unnatural green, bright as flames, as he put the carnation beside Daisha's one.

"Mother." He said, tracing the words carved onto the marble stone.

"I'm so sorry, Mother. For leaving you and Daisha. I have had no excuse, but I have come when it was all too late."

The hatred in her voice, Daisha's voice, had been far from helping to appease his guilt. Did she really hate him that much?

"Hey, Reno!"

He looked back. Rude. He had to get back now.

"Coming!" He replied, sweeping his hand once more over the cool, slightly wet with rain, surface of the gravestone, before standing and leaving without another glance back.

* * *

**A/N: Read my profile to see why I'm okay with no reviews. So don't feel pressurized readers. Just read it, and if you like it, and you want to tell me, then please do. If not, I don't really mind.**

**Moiranne Rose**


	2. Chapter Half

**Title: The Bonds that Bind**

**Summary: Family ties are forever, aren't they? Even when you are stuck between a recently disbanded AVALANCHE, a broken Midgar, and Turks, struggling to redeem themselves. Even when you've spent the last 4 years trying to rid yourself of them. Even when you're the leader of the Deyanira, and he's a Turk who betrayed you all. **

_Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, but one PSP, one UMD of Crisis Core, this computer, and the OC and her whole gang._

* * *

**Chapter 1/2: Drinks and Fights**

* * *

She listened absently to the sounds of tinkling ice cubes and sloshing beer, drunken passes and laughter erupted everywhere. This was one night she'd pass on the alcohol. She could hardly control herself as it was. She glanced up at the clock. 08 00 hours. Though it was hardly considered late, she still felt tired after today's drive out of the city. She gestured to Tifa, who had just given Laymon, the head of Midgar Press Holdings, and also a gunner,his fourth pint of beer. Tifa smiled and walked over, after passing off a drunken pass made by one of the martial arts fighters.

"What may I get for you, Daisha?"

"Anything but alcohol." She groaned, her stress-induced headache started to throb more thann she was used to.

"I'll make that two aspirins, a glass of water and a guest room." Tifa said knowingly. After the few times the Deyanira had helped AVALANCHE after the Meteor incident, in fighting off mostly what ShinRa had left, Tifa had grown to be more perceptive than ever. Though Daisha never ceased to be surprised at her empathy.

"How'd you know that?" She asked, compensating her grammar for once.

"Cloud's normally like that..." Tifa mumbled. Daisha sighed, she knew what Tifa was thinking, Cloud was only like that when he was here. Most of the time, he was at the Church in the slums, for some unknown reason.

Casting her eyes round the room, she noticed he was, once again, missing from the crowd. Cloud, she thought, poor Tifa's going to die, pining after you. It was a good thing that she had decided never to love. Love was like...she searched around the bar for something, eyes catching the golden liquid poured into the tall glass Seventh Heaven was famous for. Yes, it was like alcohol, like beer. Practically intoxicating, alluring, but all you had left after the passion, after the high, was a headache that could kill. It was good for the taste, yes it was, but never good in the long run.

"Here you go." Tifa thrust into her palm a pair of white tablets, and slid a cup of water over the counter.

She nodded her thanks. Downing the tablets and the water in a single gulp, she immediately felt the pressure in her mind lift. But the noise in the packed pub was threatening to start it all up again. Sighing, she rose from her seat, and left the pub, squeezing past the half-drunk patrons, into the darkness of the Midgar slum streets.

He whipped out his PHS, silencing its buzzing by opening it and answering. A cool, crisp voice immediately filled his ears.

"Sighted target. Entering range at 6 o'clock."

"Got it. I'm on it." He flipped it close, while lengthening his EMR. He hadn't any idea who they were trying to capture. Just that it was female, and played a vital role in AVALANCHE's After-Meteor activities. Apparently, she was powerful in the Underground World. He scanned the surroundings, mako-green eyes picking up every movement. Then he spotted her. At least, who he thought was her. Dressed in all black (most slum inhabitants did dress that way), she walked very swiftly down the street, coming closer, closer... He cocked the EMR on his shoulder, before making his way down the alley he'd been in, and waiting for the perfect opportunity to intercept. Tseng's command echoed in his ears.

"Stun her. Elena will be around in the car to assist in bring her back. Then Rude will be ready to bring her up for interrogation. You will have to come back to ShinRa yourself, because you have to remain inconspicuous."

While he didn't fully agree with some of Tseng's points, he still had nodded and went to wait in the designated area. The sound of heels was getting louder...and louder...

* * *

She heard nothing in the streets, being half distracted by the blaring horns and screeching tires of the cars. She passed through the streets that seemed to be both familiar and strange to her. She hadn't been out here for so long. She had been fighting most of her time, against some freaks of nature that had been infused so fully with mako that they were near invincible. Needless to say, they had been a welcomed challenge. Especially the way they'd look in surprise as her hair fell out of her bun, revealing her gender. Just at that moment that she'd take out a gun and shoot the final bullet.

Then she saw a shadow, lengthening as the figure seemed to move forward, towards the light. Probably some drunk lunatic on the rampage. She moved her hand towards her pouch of throwing stars, if she needed them, and moved in to see who exactly it was. Then she felt this shattering effect on her skull, accompanied by smarting _zaps_ of electricity, and she never had the chance to find out anyway.

* * *

**A/N: Cliffie? Maybe. Anyways, review if you want.**

**Moiranne Rose**


	3. Chapter 1

**Title: The Bonds that Bind**

**Summary: Family ties are forever, aren't they? Even when you are stuck between a recently disbanded AVALANCHE, a broken Midgar, and Turks, struggling to redeem themselves. Even when you've spent the last 4 years trying to rid yourself of them. Even when you're the leader of the Deyanira, and he's a Turk who betrayed you all. **

_Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, but one PSP, one UMD of Crisis Core, this computer, and the OC and her whole gang._

**A/N: Just a side note, this is a fic written purely for the process. Like it? Review. If not, I don't really mind.**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Rude Awakenings and Unwanted Reintroductions  
**

* * *

Daisha blearily opened her eyes, vaguely remembering the last hit before she had blacked out. The crackle in the air, a kind of electrifying glow, before her eyes dimmed and she eventually fainted. She cursed her own weakness, how could the famed leader of the Deyanira let herself be captured so easily. Especially one that was going to join AVALANCHE that day, she was finally old enough, finally.

Her eyes were momentarily bedazzled by the whiteness of the whole situation. Every surface around her was glowing with some form of unexplainable light. Blinking several times, she became aware of the position of her body. It had been stripped of her equipment, the whole jacket full of weapons she wore over her customary blue outfit, and she was chained to some form of seat, the kind that interrogations had.

To her left, as if on cue, a door opened and a bald man came in. He was clad in a suit, shades over his eyes, mouth curled slightly as he regarded the helpless 25 year old. She glared at him hotly before biting back a cry of pain as a frazzling bout of electricity ran through her. He moved his hand slightly to show the remote control he was holding. He smirked and turned as the door opened again.

The man that entered had his hair in a short black ponytail and he was followed swiftly by a blonde girl of about her age. They both were clad in the same uniform as the man before. She regarded them with a wary eye, unable to move, but cowered by the strength of the electric generator behind her. The lady looked at her in a mixture of pity and fear, both the men equally indecipherable.

By this time, her vision had cleared enough to allow her to see what the room was like. Walls of metal, soundproofed, a single door leading out and a chair in the middle of the room, wired to a electricity-producing device. She knew where she was now. Shinra. They had finally caught her.

From small, she had been trained in the expert art of using a pair of Japanese daggers called tanto by her mother. Individually, they were small devilishly sharp devices, used in short distance fights and for self defence for a girl in the rough alleys below the plates. She had always kept them on her when she went out to school, to the park, or to gang fights she often headed.

Her mother had been in charge of the largest gang below the plates, the Deyanira. They weren't an anti-Shinra organization, but they lent their well-trained forces to whichever side gave them more money. When her mother had died, on her journey back to their hometown of Nibelheim, she had been chosen to take up her mantle as the leader of the Deyanira, the Destroyers. She had learnt over time to wield many weapons, the trait of the Deyanira. They were all equally adept in daggers and guns, and were competent in martial arts. Whichever side they were on, was most of the time, the one who would win.

Previously, they had aided AVALANCHE in their efforts, having helped take care of their backs as the hardy group made its way from town to town, preventing as many unforeseen attacks as possible from the troublesome Shinra. Their group had never gone for the limelight, preferring to skulk in the shadows and fight in deserted alleyways.

"What…do you want with me?" She coughed once and composed herself, face nearly burning with shame at her weakness.

"Join Shinra."

The dark haired man said without hesitation. Not a question, but a simple statement. She let herself turn her head up as if she was thinking, ignoring the prickling pain that her neck felt as she stretched the cramped muscles.

"No."

The pain came again, only harder, more painful this time. The sheer force of it caused her to wince and for a few hateful tears to splash over her cheeks. The electricity coursed through her, but her iron hard resolve refused to let her scream. It went on for what seemed like hours, until the bald man flicked the switch back to the off side. She panted from the exertion and looked up again to see two smirks and one shocked almost crying face. What did she think Shinra did to captives?

"Are you going to do that till I die here, fried in my own skin?" Her sarcasm did not go to waste even when she was currently in as dire a position as ever.

The dark haired man opened his mouth about to say something else and before he could say anything, the door opened again. She felt a headache come up as the glare from the outside matched the one on the inside and vaguely resembled the hangover when she had got after going out with the gang last week. The glare broke as a form filled the door and then pushed it close. Her eyes opened wide. No…

"Daisha."

He gasped, metal rod falling to the ground with a clink. She struggled to get out of her bonds. He was that asinine fool, the second-in-command that had left their group to join Shinra after they had offered him more money than he was currently making. It was he who had betrayed the whole gang by giving away two of the top members. They were never seen again. All her thoughts strung together, every single expletive that she had screamed at his memory summed itself up in a single word.

"Traitor."

* * *

**A/N: This was actually the original first chapter of the fic, but I decided instead to write a prologue to the whole thing with two "sub" chapters in front. Hence this is officially chapter 1, and the others are 0 and Half.  
**

**Moiranne Rose**


	4. Chapter 2

**Title: The Bonds that Bind  
**

**Summary: Family ties are forever, aren't they? Even when you are stuck between a recently disbanded AVALANCHE, a broken Midgar, and Turks, struggling to redeem themselves. Even when you've spent the last 4 years trying to rid yourself of them. Even when you're the leader of the Deyanira, and he's a Turk who betrayed you all. **

_Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, but one PSP, one UMD of Crisis Core, this computer, and the OC and her whole gang._

* * *

**Chapter 2: Decisions and Hobson's Choices  
**

* * *

Daisha knew how she looked now. Blue shirt crinkled and smoking from the electric shocks. Her skirt, plated metal over a pair of matching blue leggings in a disarray she wouldn't normally allow. Quivering ever so slightly in the cold metal chair as she recovered from it. Face contorted in such smoking hatred that it was worse than the burn marks that marred her wrists. She could just feel the shame, being seen in such a condition by a traitor. She itched to reach for her stars to throw one at him, even when they weren't at her side.

He was still the same, sloppy in his outfit, his infernal hair as red as her own. How could he share the same trait as her, the same surname as her? She boiled as she heard his voice again. She refused to say it, but she had longed for his voice in a weird way. He had always been the one who had had her back, coaxed smiles from her when she was feeling down and out, made her roll her eyes when he cracked lame jokes, he made her feel happy. But now, she had long refused him as her brother. No more.

The dark haired man turned from her to him, unsure what to think. _He _had at least the decency to feel ashamed as _he_ saw the defeated, limp form of _his_ former leader and under her hateful glare. The man realized his discomfort and motioned to the bald man to release her arms from the machine and move her to a normal seat, like the one they were all occupying.

They all regarded her warily; as if she was a time bomb they didn't know the time set on it. She shook her head, they must have thought she still had weapons on her, which she did. Just to make them feel better, she reached into her shirt, which had several secret pockets with some basic weapons in them. She lay down five of her signature throwing stars, five basic ones, three daggers, one gun that she had creatively got to fit against her calf, another set of two pistols from holsters fit round her thighs and just to make their eyes almost pop out of their heads, and for her own humourous escapades, she removed the glowing, faintly pulsing orb that she kept in her bun, leaving it as a long wave of red hair.

Then she shifted in her seat and looked over them critically. The dark haired one seemed like the leader type, though he was silent and unfathomable. The bald man was taciturn too, but seemed to enjoy _his _presence, allowing a small smile when _he _came into the room. The blonde girl seemed very new and seemed to be rather overwhelmed by the electric chair and Daisha's extreme tolerance rate. _He_ was just being the same old _him, _standing off to one side, as if wondering if _he_ should sit down or if _he_ should leave the room.

"Sit Reno." The black-haired man monotoned, gesturing _him _to do exactly that. _He _sat down, choosing wisely to make eye contact with the ground instead of the eyes that threatened to kill him by its detestable stare.

"You know her?" The bald man inquired, his eyebrows rising just above his shades.

"Reno used to be in the Deyanira. He was my second in command." Daisha chose to answer for him, not allowing him to introduce them as relatives, let alone siblings.

Reno nodded slowly, accepting this introduction. The three others surveyed him for a moment and then turned back to her, the dark haired man first to speak.

"Shinra realizes the strength of the Deyanira. We are offering to employ you as part of an elite squad under Rufus Shinra. We understand that as the leader, you hold the utmost say in where your forces stand. So we're putting forth an truce, should I say, that we pay you and you work for us."

"Should I refuse, I assume, you will fry me in my own skin? That leaves me in a Hobson's choice am I right? And if I die in refusal, what will you do?"

"We will hunt down the next leader and take it from there."

Daisha was impressed at his cold demeanor and overall respect from the whole team. He had obviously thought this through quite a bit. She knew what she had to pick, to ensure the life of the Deyanira. There was no one else in line for leadership, she herself with no other blood relative save Reno. But she needed just a little more information.

"So, in the hypothetical situation where I accept, we will join up with your squad? You must understand that we are not specialists in one type of weaponry. We are first and foremost street fighters. You must understand if we do not work the same way as you do."

The man simply nodded. Then he cocked an eyebrow, effectively asking the question he needed the answer to.

"Alright then. But you must allow me to gather them. I will meet you at sunrise tomorrow."

"How will I know this will be kept?" He was playing hardball, but she was equal to that.

She allowed herself a smirk as she rose from her seat, swiftly keeping all her supplies back into her various pockets and taking her actual jacket of weapons back from the blonde girl.

"We Deyanira are true to our words. Unlike some people who choose otherwise. I will see you at the foot of the building tomorrow at 08 00 hours. With my army."

Without another word, she swept from the room, red hair already done up in its crafty bun hiding the sinister orb.

Leaving one faintly smiling face, two bewildered ones and one darkened in shame.

* * *

**A/N: So sorry if I bashed Reno a bit. I love him as much as all of you out there do, but in this story, he'll slowly gain acceptance from Daisha. Slowly but surely. And also, I'm sorry also for the overuse of black-haired, bald and blonde. I'm trying to make sure that they all have a "name" that Daisha calls them till she fully joins their team.**

**Moiranne Rose**


	5. Chapter 3

**A/N: This is the third installment of the story. And also, I have a few disclaimers**

1) I own nothing.

2) I've only watched someone play FF7, I have no funds to buy one for myself.

**So I'm sorry if things aren't exactly right.**

**Lotsa Love,**

**Moiranne Rose**

* * *

**Title: The Bonds that Bind  
**

**Summary: Family ties are forever, aren't they? Even when you are stuck between a recently disbanded AVALANCHE, a broken Midgar, and Turks, struggling to redeem themselves. Even when you've spent the last 4 years trying to rid yourself of them. Even when you're the leader of the Deyanira, and he's a Turk who betrayed you all. **

_Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, but one PSP, one UMD of Crisis Core, this computer, and the OC and her whole gang._

* * *

**Chapter 3: Memories that weren't buried deep enough  
**

* * *

Daisha whisked herself out of the building, fishing in her pockets for aspirins for the headache that was acting up. She shook her bangs out of her face, as she flashed a smile at the nonplussed secretary who had witnessed her arrival as an unconscious prisoner thirty minutes ago. Her red hair was unmistakable. It had been her mother's, and then hers, and then her dear baby brother's. His had taken on a messier, shaggy look. Her mother's had always been in a severe bun, away from her eyes so she could see the next opponent she would hit down. Her own was straight, but her bangs curled ever so slightly, and normally fell into her eyes, seemingly having its own rebellious spirit.

She knew that she had missed her brother. More than she ever wanted to admit. Even her closest friend in the Deyanira, Ashira, didn't know how badly his leaving had made her feel. There were days she'd go and punish herself for not taking care of him well enough and not eat. And there were other days she'd go and shoot birds (Chocobos sometimes) for supper, more than necessary when she needed to vent her anger. She didn't know how many bullets she had wasted, throwing stars she had wasted on his memory, and she wasn't about to count them.

Let's just say "they were not on good terms" was the understatement of the year.

Her heels (God knows how hard fighting on heels is) hit the pavement soundlessly, as she strolled casually through the ever dark streets of ShinRa. She made an abrupt turn into a dimly lit alleyway. Discreetly ducking into a clean, relatively well lit pub, she ran her hand through her otherwise unruly hair and smoothed it back as she made her way to the back of the counter. Being friends with the owner did have its _benefits_ after all.

The said owner raised her head slightly and nodded in greeting, gesturing to some unknown alcohol. Daisha nodded vehemently, needing the fuel for the meeting she needed to schedule about the next day's liaisons. The pint glass filled with golden liquid and was slid expertly along the table. She smiled,

"Thanks, Tifa."

"What brings you here, Daisha? Not, by any chance, for the room at the back?"

Daisha grinned, "How d'ya guess? I need the room, a good supply of beer and that telephone."

Tifa cleaned a glass absently, processing her request. The martial arts expert had hands that could both deliver a pint of drink and a hefty punch. Even when she had stopped being in active duty for AVALANCHE, Daisha had the honour of fighting her before. She was constantly beaten, especially by a very stealthy foot behind her knees and a head butt, which normally ended with her head against the floorboards and Tifa fretting about her getting a concussion and what–not. The AVALANCHE member certainly earned her role. But she was still better at aim and weapon use, though Tifa was good at defence against them. They were good as individuals, but constantly, when paired to fight, ended up tripping each other and hitting with various limbs. It didn't help that they were the same height.

Then Tifa smiled, ultimately. And Daisha knew that half of the battle was done.

Make that a little bit of the battle done. How was she going to explain to her generals about this?

Up in her guest room above the Seventh Heaven, it took her a while to get ready. On these formal occasions, when she met with all her generals, she needed to look her place. As their leader, she had to make sure she did not look like she had been: 1) Caught, 2) Tortured, 3) Finding a certain traitor, and 4) Interrogated by Shinra. She looked critically at her outfit. It was singed at the wrist cuffs; the electric armbands had been as powerful as they were persuasive. Crumpled, and looked rather like she had been out training and ended up setting fire to some place and bolting for it. Which would have been accurate if you plus a kidnapping, certain people with varying colours and amounts of hair, and minus away the ability to "bolt for it". Essentially, that would be the whole wrap up for the day.

She decided to wear her full piece outfit, which comprised of a pair of leggings (black), a short skirt over it (black too, and craftily made to be a holder for all kinds of ammo), a long sleeved shirt (black), and an overcoat of leather with all her main guns and weapons (black too). She never wore armor (a fact which scandalized many of her subordinates) for the simple reason that it was far too heavy and that she needed the edge of danger and thrill. Somehow, the lack of armor made her freer and more perceptive of her surroundings.

As she pulled on her coat and did a once over at her mirror, she decided to pull her hair into a customary bun again. She couldn't have her hair loose; it got in her face and was very distracting. After she felt satisfied with her appearance, she went down the stairs, back to Tifa's pub, to make more than a few phone calls to various people all over Midgar.

"Hello? Ching's Fried Chicken Delivery. We're out of chicken drumsticks at the moment but…Wait, you want to speak to Mr. Ching? Yes ma'am, he'll be on the line."

"Hello? Midgar Press Holdings, Mr. Laymon's office. Whom may I say is calling?"

"Farron's Law Faculty. Who is this?"

"Hotel Esperanza Room Call Service, what room would you like?"

"Hello Daisha."

She jumped in her seat. Why was she so jumpy today? She hadn't expected Cloud to come back so early. Normally he hung around the church in the slums. While she had been newly reinstated in the guest room of Tifa's bar, she had learnt bits and pieces of Cloud's and AVALANCHE's heroic deeds. Some parts were whispered reverently, some others were in the papers at the start, some she'd heard at night, when Cloud was muttering in his sleep (that was when he still stayed with Tifa, Marlene and Denzel), some she'd heard in the day, when she helped Tifa with the morning preparations.

"Cloud, what's up?" She ran her hand through her hair trying to cover her surprise at his sudden appearance.

"What are you doing?" He countered her question with one of his own.

"Private matters." He knew not to probe further. She was literally closed off from them all, ever since she had first arrived. They didn't know who she was, what she did, or why she had a certain fetish for black. All they knew was her name and her fighting skills. Apart from that, she might as well have been a stranger.

"Cloud!" Tifa came out from behind, hands permanently wiping the last of the glasses of the night. He raised a hand in greeting, but no smile, as per normal. Then he retreated to his room. Tifa's face fell, but she hid it behind a faked smile and a shrug and went back behind the counter. Daisha smiled sadly, those two just wouldn't get over the past, could they?

Now all she had to do was wait for the generals to all arrive, and pray their graces that they wouldn't all come after her for what she had done.

* * *

**A/N: All done, well this chapter at least. Review only if you want. My policy at least.  
**

**Moiranne Rose**


	6. Chapter 4

**Title: The Bonds that Bind (the title as of 9/9/08)  
**

**Summary: Family ties are forever, aren't they? Even when you are stuck between a recently disbanded AVALANCHE, a broken Midgar, and Turks, struggling to redeem themselves. Even when you've spent the last 4 years trying to rid yourself of them. Even when you're the leader of the Deyanira, and he's a Turk who betrayed you all. **

_Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, but one PSP, one UMD of Crisis Core, this computer, and the OC and her whole gang._

* * *

**Chapter 4: Meetings and Discussions**

* * *

Her generals arrived all at once, each garbed in the uniform of their working places. They had all sat down and finished various small talk sessions before she signaled for the start of the meeting. She had always had the respect from her generals, after years of earning their trust through resilience and some very persuasive fighting moves. At the moment, she cursed her diminished courage, she was very nervous. Especially when they all had their weapons on them, hidden in various pockets as she did with hers, and she knew, all of them had no safety catch to complicate things.

"Generals, to order please."

They moved in their seats, but retained their decorum.

Mr, Laymon, whose neatly pressed office suit held an amazing amount of knives and daggers, was first to ask, "Why did you call this meeting?"

Daisha sighed, she had known that she would need to come clean. She mentally prepared herself for the story's retelling, before clenching her fists and starting. It had been hard in coming, the events weren't a day away, yet she felt as though she had stepped through a space of a thousand years. Some things she forgot, but she couldn't forget red hair. And more red hair. Something she sidestepped and didn't mention.

Thankfully, no one saw her accident-that-was-actually-on-purpose. In fact, their only question came from Faleyn. "What's AVALANCHE going to say about this?"

Daisha frowned. She hadn't really gotten around to thinking about that. They had helped AVALANCHE in the war against Sephiroth and the Meteor, providing assistance and cover as the team moved from town to town (in exchange for cash, of course). Though they hadn't been acknowledged (and it was better that way), they were still more than just affiliated to the group. It was difficult to switch sides when it had only been three months since Cloud had dragged his and his whole group's sorry asses back to their homes, and finally settled down. But the whole aim of the gang, their only driving factor, was money. It had nothing to do with whether it was _right, _or if they were for the cause or not. They were hired assassins, with no real, true feelings.

"They don't _have_ a say." She reminded him. While he nodded, accepting this as a fact, someone near the back, who had a superbly accurate sense of aim which was fully utilized in her long-barreled gun, raised a point,

"Daisha, who are these people who are employing us?" Shaina's typical skepticism was passable after the childhood of deceit and lies she had lived through in the slums of Midgar.

She sighed, she had hoped they wouldn't realise that she had left out that key detail. How would they take it? That they were going to be hired by a traitor? Someone who had indirectly caused the fall of their leader and her mother. A person who had mentally broken down Daisha herself.

She opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then was forced to open it again.

"Turks."

The word was pushed out between gritted teeth. Till it sounded more like "tirksss" but the rest declined to comment about the way it came out. They got the message.

"Him." Shaina nodded.

Daisha thought for a while, then nodded, "Him."

The generals were generally apathetic. They'd all been through betrayal before. Mr. Ching, for example, had been left as an orphan when his parents had found out that he had joined a gang, considering him a good-for-nothing 16-year-old. He had been one of Deyanira's longest standing members, and one of its best long distance sharp shooters. They had all somehow risen out of their clinging pasts, a trait that somehow likened them to the Turks in some way.

The group looked to each other, then at Daisha, as if awaiting her next sentence. She felt suddenly weary. Being the leader, she held all the responsibilities and was forced to care, in some ways, for those under her. She downed the last of her second (or was it third?) beer and said,

"Tomorrow, 6 am, all of you better be back here. Our new employers aren't the type that will wait."

The group of gang fighters nodded and one by one, pushed out of the bar, discarding their identities with that of their separate lives.

To anyone outside, the group was not at all affiliated to each other. They were simply another set of men and women walking out after a drink at the pub called Seventh Heaven.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so I know that there haven't been any reviews. But I realized, not to long ago, that it no longer matters to me. I just write because I want to. And since I normally don't review, I can't really expect much more than that from everyone else. So review if you want.**

**Moiranne Rose**


	7. Chapter 5

**Title: The Bonds that Bind**

**Summary: Family ties are forever, aren't they? Even when you are stuck between a recently disbanded AVALANCHE, a broken Midgar, and Turks, struggling to redeem themselves. Even when you've spent the last 4 years trying to rid yourself of them. Even when you're the leader of the Deyanira, and he's a Turk who betrayed you all. **

_Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, but one PSP, one UMD of Crisis Core, this computer, and the OC and her whole gang._

* * *

**Chapter 5: The Meaning of Rebirth**

* * *

Groaning, Daisha opened her eyes after a night of hazy dreams. She ran a shaky hand through her hair, trying hard to remember what it was all about. There had been some form of death, at least, and flames. Lots of flames. Why was she so shaken?

As much death as she had seen in her life, mostly inflicted by her, she didn't know why she never felt the guilt after it. She had grown up with a mother that held a sword, a dagger, a gun, a ladle, a cane, and a storybook all in one hand, and a neighbourhood of childish fancies and tussles with neighbours. There was no guilt after a while, because she had never known that such a feeling existed.

As if she was emphasising a point to herself, she reached for a flower from the sprig that Tifa had left next to her, and mindlessly crushed it. The immediately crumpled, slightly browned edges of the dead plant fell to the ground noiselessly. Feeling the strangest rush within her, she had to suppress the urge to stomp on it as she got up.

She realized, suddenly, that she'd fallen asleep in her clothes from the night before, being far too tired to do anything but drag herself (barely) up the stairs and into her bed. She cursed her failing grip over her body. First it was getting attacked from behind. She had never allowed that to happen. Then it was getting all flustered in the meeting. And finally this. It was like her whole, well-planned life, was going to pieces ever since her mother had left for Nibelheim.

Nibelheim. That was a long time ago. She didn't really know what happened then. It had been years, literally years, since the whole town had been extinguished in flames set by a crazed man called Sephiroth. Since then, she had never gone back. Remembering those days, it was a long time ago, when she was still young, about 18, 19 years old, just starting to master the tanto. Everything had gone without a trace. That had been the beginning of it all.

That had started her brother's (if it was still right to call him that) fascination with the dark-clad agents that, silent and resolute, watched over the scientists and medical "examiners" who flooded the place after the whole incident. She had longed to stop his madness over it. But they had moved to Midgar and learnt the rules and ways of being under ShinRa. Out in the wild of Nibelheim, they hadn't felt the pressure of ShinRa breathing down their backs, In Midgar, it was everyday.

She had blown a fuse at her brother a long time ago. It had been, close to 4 and a half years ago (she was surprised she still counted). It had taken a while coming, but she had had enough that day. He was forever not there when they needed him. And when they didn't, just _didn't _need his wise cracks and dubious taste in jokes, he'd always be offering them. It was an endless cycle of disappearances and reappearances.

Well, she'd been griping all that day. Their mother, wait no, he didn't _deserve _to call her mother, _her_ mother had been out for such a long time. And she had just dragged herself home, having hidden a series of vicious slashes and bruises with the Deyanira's trademark trenchcoat. Once she was in the house, her pale face was only paler, and she shook and fainted once inside. Daisha had been 20 closing in on 21 at that time.

She had just brought her mother to the couch, where her jagged wounds smeared blood onto the plush lining. Once there, she ran for the medical kit, and upon arriving back, found her brother staring at their, (no wait) _her, _mother in a way that had not been entirely comfortable. Sure, he'd seen blood before, and had been perfectly composed at a nasty knife fight, but he was looking at their mother like she was a specimen, some experiment waiting to be dissected (or in this case, already partially dissected). She couldn't stand it, and her infamous temper sparked of a fire of rage and fury.

Her ears hurt and burning came to her eyes remembering the words. Yet she had long steeled herself against it. For, at least, as long as _he_'d been away.

"_Why bother coming back? Why don't you just go off with your beloved ShinRa, and save your wise-crack jokes to piss them off instead? You'd be saving us a lot of trouble. Maybe your __**expertise**__-" here she sneered to the best of her hereditary ability, "-will be better appreciated there. Maybe, maybe, you could realise, that we'll do fine, no, __**well**__ without you and your idiocy. _

_If you care so much for the __**fame**__, the __**paychecks**__, the __**thrills**__, then go. It's all of that that led Mother to this, if you're willing to forsake that, then go.And if you do, we're not going to cry about it. We'll just laugh and say __**good riddance**__."_

That had been the end. His brown eyes had widened, then dilated with reluctance and acceptance she hadn't expected. Then he had turned on his heel, and left. Left, with no goodbye, with no glances backwards, no hesitation. Just echoing footsteps and a shadow that faded into the distance.

Why he had left was a mystery to her. But maybe the life they led, of secrecy and deceit, of hushed whispers and phone calls they had to leave unanswered, of constant fear and adrenaline that sky-rocketed every minute of the day. He had always been outspoken, and brash, and crude, and _open. _There was no way he'd enjoy such a life. So ShinRa was where he went. And ShinRa was what happened to be, the most feared and hated crumbling organisation Gaia had ever known. And ShinRa, that had singlehandedly brought Midgar to where it was now. Ruins. And debris. And, she looked at the time, forever late. She was slightly behind schedule. She'd have to skip her breakfast in favour of caffeine.

Standing from the window ledge, where her legs had hung down, swinging two storeys above a cement pavement, where she had sat for the past while, she squinted at the rugged horizon of torn-down reactors, barren canyons, and beyond that, some ragged cliffs of some nondescript rock face. Then she knew the meaning of rebirth.

It was forgetting, and moving on, regardless of the clinging memories. It meant taking the new challenges and pummeling it to the ground, and then stepping onto it for good measure. It also meant seizing the next opportunity, for example, rebuilding, renovating, tearing down old wrecks, and getting certain people to certain places, to reach at a certain time.

* * *

**A/N: This is the last chapter for a while...SORRY! I can't post during exam weeks, but if there are vague pockets of time, I might work on the next one.**

**Review only if you want.**

**See you around,**

**Moiranne Rose**


	8. Chapter 6

**Title: The Bonds that Bind**

**Summary: Family ties are forever, aren't they? Even when you are stuck between a recently disbanded AVALANCHE, a broken Midgar, and Turks, struggling to redeem themselves. Even when you've spent the last 4 years trying to rid yourself of them. Even when you're the leader of the Deyanira, and he's a Turk who betrayed you all. **

_Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, but one PSP, one UMD of Crisis Core, this computer, and the OC and her whole gang._

* * *

**Chapter 6: Introductions and Familiarizations**

* * *

As planned, Daisha met her whole gang outside the Seventh Heaven, at 6 am sharp, after obediently throwing down her breakfast on Tifa's command. She was dressed in her formal attire, same as the night before, except that her hair was in a simpler ponytail than the elaborate bun that she normally wore. The leather jacket was not out of place in the rapidly rebuilding city, neither were the twin daggers inside it, along with the rest of her weapon stash. Self-defense was key in Edge, as the city was rife with dangers and robberies waiting to happen.

They didn't find the need to speak as the silence reigned over the whole slumbering population of Edge. They simply looked to Daisha, who calmly took the lead and brought them through the crumbling ruins of the once dazzling city of Midgar. Now, Midgar, or whatever was left of it, was far from its former state. Even the towering ShinRa building had been reduced to slightly more than nondescript rubble.

The designated place, the same place that held the torture chamber she had been held in, was outside of Edge, only reachable via motorbikes. She hardly knew how she had made it back that day. Maybe it had been fueled on hatred, or the sheer fury she had had bottled up in her. Each member had their own motorbike, since they usually favoured the faster, sleeker, less noticeable bikes over bulky cars or limousines.

All fifteen of them dove in and out of alleys and passages, so as to divert attention at the large exodus of leather-clad individuals. The bikes screeched against the pavement, awakening some cranky citizens, as each Deyanira ducked lines of laundry and bypassed road blocks. This method of moving usually made sure they were not classified as a whole group by the shaken-out-of-bed Edge inhabitants. And it also left them with time alone to think.

Daisha could think back to her dream. The flames that licked the blackness of the sky, her whole world burning and burning, screams of pain, cries for help. All of it came back to her. She was in Nibelheim all over again, reliving that painful escape from the mountains.

"_Daisha! Hurry!"_

_Her mother was waving for her to come, her hair, for once, coming out of the severe bun, and her face creasing into lines of worry and her hands trembling as she gathered the then 12 year old into her arms. Daisha couldn't help but see, out of the shadows and the fire, a long sword, infamous as its wielder, falling again and again in a mad dance of insanity and destruction. Stabbing, slicing, it destroyed every father, mother, son, daughter, that dared stand in the way, and then some. Then she saw her brother._

At that time, she still cared for the brother she would disowned 8 years afterwards.

"_Reno!"_

_The young redhead was staring, almost entranced by the hypnotic green eyes of the famous SOLDIER First Class Sephiroth. The tall SOLDIER stared at him for a moment, blazing eyes shining that glamorous shade of mako. Then Daisha's hand jumped to her side, snaking its way to the sheath of one of her tanto blades. Then in one fluid action, trained for years, she whipped it out and threw it at Sephiroth._

_It was childish fantasy that it would even scratch Gaia's master swordsman. He had it deflected and spinning on the ground back towards her in seconds, but it bought Reno enough time to slip out of his daze and rush towards them..._

She could still remember her mother's cool comment afterwards about improving her reflexes. No thanks for saving Reno's life. No thanks for saving the life of a _traitor_. But try as she might, she couldn't wish that she hadn't done that fateful act that day. She couldn't wish that she'd let him die. She shook her head surreptitiously.

Her motorbike made it to the reactor long before she was able to finish her thoughts. The same structure, the abandoned-and-then-found-again reactor perched in the hollow of two cliffs, its ominous shadow hid the dark-clad Deyanira. She felt her senses perk for the minute movements in the sparse grass that covered the landscape and Thomas (aka Mr. Laymon) absently kicked a stray rock, the rattles bouncing off the walls and amplifying on and on for ages.

Then, out of the blue, they arrived. Each one appearing from a door along the reactor, and there were many doors. She almost heaved a sigh of relief when she realized that _he _wasn't there. But stopped short because of decorum.

Apparently, they had revamped the whole hulk of metal and evil into a place to live in. And apparently, quite comfortably. Their unfathomable looks peered down at unfathomable looks casted upwards. Then, as if sizing each other up, they stared, and would have continued staring, if not for the very fact that introductions were appropriate at such a time.

Daisha stepped forth, not because she was very enthusiastic about this, but because it was her duty as leader.

"Daisha. Deyanira."

And then the opposite sides' leader (as she had suspected), nodded stiffly.

"Tseng. Turks."

No one found it amusing to point out that each leader's name started with the same letter as their represented party. But then again, both sides understood the importance of stepping cautiously. Some more than others.

There was an air of awkwardness, as was typical of such first meetings. Daisha felt the wind pick up its pace, and the column of dust that threatened to overtake them all. All of them turned as the dust storm approached, so the sticky subject of inviting the Deyanira into the reactor was cleared by the helpful forces of Mother Nature.

Stepping in, Daisha was mildly surprised at the overall "homey" (if it was appropriate to describe it as that) feel of the place. They had furnished the reactor, and its individual platforms and rooms, with furniture that would not have seemed out of place in any wealthy man's home. But the black clad group held in their admiration and kept their heads low, and on their guard. As was their upbringing, many of them did not trust easily, growing up in a world where your friends could kill you and your heroes could turn mad.

They were swiftly brought through the whole reactor, and out into the open again through a door at the other end. They found themselves in the barren lands of the Cosmo Canyon, instead of the ruins of ShinRa which they had actually been expecting. Apparently, the Turks had done, or more likely, had recruited people to do, a lot more refurbishing and extensions than previously expected.

Daisha felt her impulses kick in as she open her ears to any form of danger or game that she often hunted for training. A slight twitch, a leaf moving, a dry branch cracked ever so slightly, and her hand went to the inner lining of her coat, drew out her tanto, and in a swift, practiced movement, the dagger was sent flying towards the unlucky Chocobo and impaling it, with yellow feathers flying and a slight thump as the lifeless creature fell to the ground. Daisha felt again that freakish sense of triumph and the blankness of the lack of guilt. She simply moved forward, retrieved her weapon and sheathed it.

She looked back to see some surprised, shocked, smug, knowing faces. Were they shocked at her utter and total disregard of life, or was it her aim, or her shamelessness? She didn't know.

But she knew that was about the best introduction she could give of herself, her gang, and who exactly the Turks were dealing with.

* * *

Reno threw himself almost flat on his motorbike, trying to will it to move faster. It had taken such a long time to get the supplies needed (food, water, ammunitions, all that jazz). And Tseng had specified that he expected him at 08 00 hours, which was, he checked a non-existent watch, probably 15 to 30 minutes ago.

But then again, Tseng had known that he'd be late, after all, he was not stupid. The traffic in Edge was far too congested to get anything done in half an hour. In fact, he had been relying on Reno being late.

Then there wouldn't be..._awkward_...situations.

And people said Tseng had a low Emotional Quotient level.

* * *

**A/N: OMG! Reviews?! I feel loved!**

**Moiranne Rose (still not begging)**


	9. Chapter 7

**Title: The Bonds that Bind**

**Summary: Family ties are forever, aren't they? Even when you are stuck between a recently disbanded AVALANCHE, a broken Midgar, and Turks, struggling to redeem themselves. Even when you've spent the last 4 years trying to rid yourself of them. Even when you're the leader of the Deyanira, and he's a Turk who betrayed you all. **

_Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, but one PSP, one UMD of Crisis Core, this computer, and the OC and her whole gang._

* * *

**Chapter 7: Old Scars, New Scars  
**

* * *

A rush of wind followed as a dark-clad figure parked her motorbike and strode into the crowded bar. Squeezing past the drunken, sweaty bodies of men, she bolted up the stairs, high-heeled boots hitting the wood almost viciously.

As in all times when they had new employers, they normally went out to plains, fields, some expanse of space to train and learn about the strengths and weaknesses. After a day in Cosmo Canyon with their employers, Daisha summarized what she'd learnt. In the Turks, they had stealth and were exceptionally fast and skillful with their weapons. But they were few, and their methods became predictable as time went by. Though, she would admit that, it was hard to survive more than 15 minutes in battle with them, so that point had never really counted.

But other than that, she guessed she should have been happy. After all, high-paying skilled employers meant more pay and less workout right? Nope.

She was mad. Yes, she _was _(A/N: pardon the language) bloody _furious_. She'd spent the whole day trying her best to avoid _him_ while she went about familiarizing herself with her new allies. He always seemed to spring up whenever she fell, or when her tanto flew out of reach when it was ducked (Turk reflexes were good, something about the mako). But she'd pull herself up on her own, or sprinting the yards to get the tanto herself. If there was one thing she did _not _need, it was his help.

Daisha swooped into the guest room, her pace fueled on rage. Only then she allowed her facial features dissolve into a tired expression. She flopped onto the bed, scrambling in the side drawer for a sleeping pill, only to jump back up as the sharp blade of the tanto somehow pricked her back. She didn't mind the pain as much as the fuss of taking off every piece of her layered garments. It was very tiresome really. Each black piece of tailor-made leather came off laboriously and was neatly stacked on the bed.

As she turned around to look at her back, her vision was drawn to the rest of scars that trailed up and down her body. The new ones from today (a graze from a bullet of Tseng's, a bruise from Rude), and the old ones that had been with her for years. She was not proud of them, they were shameful, they reminded her that she had let herself be hurt in a fight. Every scar of these resulted in ten on her wrist, covered by sleeves in the day, now bare and white scars showing up starkly. She wasn't suicidal, but self-mutilation was a good reminder at times.

Observing the small gash, she concluded that it was simply a scratch, hardly anything. She nodded curtly, turning to put her various pieces of clothing back on. As she turned, her eyes caught something else. A set of old, fading bruises that adorned her upper arms and a slash that had stretched over time on her collarbone. Sitting down on the bed in a daze, her mind whirled back, all the way back.

_She was smiling, coming back from her childish escapades, head held high in pride. She'd manage to filch an apple from the grocer round the corner, and the said prize was half-gone already._

_She passed a group of boys, about 14, smoking cigarettes they weren't old enough to smoke. They puffed their stolen treasures and watched the smoke curl upwards. She shook her head and muttered something under her breath, "Rebels..." and flicking her red locks, she walked right past them. One of them sensed her distaste, and called out to her, sneering,_

"_Hey! Who d'ya think ya are? Putting on airs like that?"_

_She refused to turn back. They were lunatics, looking for trouble. If she ignored them, they would go away..._

_She felt a rough hand on her shoulder and was whipped around and pinned, in a choking hold, against the wall of the alley they were in. The alley had suddenly grown a lot darker. In his breath, she smelt beer._

"_Ain't no one talk that way about me and me mates here! I say we teach this fancy-pants princess here a lesson, aye?"_

_His glowing eyes and breath clouded over her, she shivered._

_The maniacal laughter got louder as the other two closed in, and her whole world turned even blacker and she struggled futilely as hands grabbed her wrists and slammed them against the wall above her head..._

She shook with the memory. She remembered the feeling of your head half in a puddle, blood trickling into the same puddle, arms blue and black, scratched and bruised after absorbing all the strength and friction between iron-hard grips and bricked walls. That day had started her silence, her brooding, and her indifference to the world. After three hours or so (the sky had been dark with a slight moon providing little light), she had gotten up, struggling and gasping at the pain that coursed in her veins. She made her way home, each step heavier and smaller than the last.

Having gotten in through the back door, quietly shutting the door and dragging herself as silently as possible up the stairs and to the bathroom, where she spent the hours after that scrubbing and scrubbing, all the filth, the bits of rubble embedded in her skin, and carefully disinfecting the jagged knife mark over her collarbone. She had tried to struggle, after all. But she had not known what happened to her, only that it had been humiliating and wrong. She never talked of it to anyone. She didn't even know what to tell.

After that, she had drawn into herself. Hardly going down for meals, emaciated wrists with hardly any flesh left to cut, hours of throwing her tanto again and again, aiming for anything, a dried-up apple core, ants, she didn't ever break the routine, perfecting her slicing, her aim, her stabbing. Morning was training, afternoon was training, night was training, the endless cycle of it almost comforting in those blank days.

At the start, it was just because she felt dirtied, sullied. Then it became a refuge, so she didn't need to think about that. Then, as her mother grew further away, and her brother floated towards ShinRa, it became part of her. With no one else to hang on to, she could only hold on to what she had known all her life.

Looking at herself now, it wasn't hard to believe. All those years her mother left her alone while she went on her own missions, whether to the cliffs, Midgar, or the grocery shop, and her brother wandered aimlessly, she had toughened herself so she'd never need to rely on anyone else. If anything, now, at least, she was independent.

And she was strong. As she pulled back on the thin black top, and her leggings, effectively hiding her multitude of battle remembrances, she transformed her broken body back into its cold demeanor, powerful, ruthless, no feelings. This was the part no one needed to know. The scars that lay underneath the covers of clothes and smiles.

Not that anyone cared to dig.

* * *

**A/N: More reviews! I AM loved! Well, to one of them, from Dry Ice Burns (what a name! What a nice name!), I put forth this chapter to hopefully clear up some of your questions or dislikes about Daisha being a Mary Sue. I'm sorry if you still don't think it's good, I'll try harder, okay? And to the other reviewers, THANKS SO MUCH! LOVE! (platonic of course! And virtual!)**

**Moiranne Rose (still not begging)**


	10. Chapter 8

**The Bonds that Bind**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Questions about Loyalties**

**Summary to the Chapter: Daisha finds herself torn between two opposing forces. En route to a delivery, Cloud doesn't seem to accept that Deyanira's only motivation is money. Whoever offers more, gets them. **

* * *

The next day arrived sooner than Daisha wanted it to. The glare of the sun just brought out more of her irritation as she dressed in leather pants and a top which proudly proclaimed "Fight or Die." She couldn't care for makeup, so she left her room soon after going through the mandatory "wash-face-brush-teeth-oh-no-where-are-my-various-weapons-ah-there" process that she followed everyday.

Today she had the luxury of enjoying a no-rush breakfast. Or so she thought. She had barely started on the toast that Tifa had nicely made, and just scalded her tongue with the burning tea, when Cloud burst in, with his sword in his hand.

His hands bore the wounds of a tussle with the Canyon's many predators and a gash across his cheek brought Tifa to him with disinfectant and worried expressions. He shied away from her, like an animal wishing to tend to its own wounds. She was left standing awkwardly with a First-Aid box in her hands and nothing to do. Tifa just about managed a half-smile before going back to her room, unable to help the situation and as an escape.

The slight tension left Daisha holding her toast in her hand, on its way to her mouth, but hesitating, being unsure of whether to put it in her mouth, risking not being able to speak if Cloud asked her something, or just forever doomed to staring at the slightly bloodied blonde and never get around to eating. She put down the bread, picked up one of her materia from her pocket and walked over to Cloud. Without waiting for any form of acknowledgment, she placed her palm over his wounds and muttered, "Cura." And then watched as his skin grew back over the wounds and the blood ceased to flow.

"Where did you learn to use Materia?" Cloud's astonishment and indignance was almost laughable, though Daisha was not in the mood for laughing.

"Oh, I had to learn since I tend to get myself hurt sometimes-" _and it always helps to have Cura Materia when you're coming back from a bloody training session with Turks and you really wouldn't like your "landlords" to hold anything against you for dirtying the carpet. "-_and my friend taught me how to use it. Useful things." She added lamely, knowing that though it was half the truth, it was the lesser truth. Shaina was about the closest thing to a friend that she had, but in a world where you've been brought up knowing your friend might revolt and kill you in cold blood, the whole friendship ideal pretty much soured.

"The Canyon's monsters seem to have come back with a vengeance..." He let his sentence trailing into a request. She took the hint.

"Sure, I need practise."

"We need to head up to the Ruins outside Edge. You might need to..."

"I'll take my own bike and follow you." She smiled half-heartedly and looked down at her second day's worth of unfinished breakfast. She contemplated leaving it again, but after her less-than-friendly meeting with Cloud, she didn't want to burden Tifa with more chores. She swallowed the rest of the tea and finished the toast before double-checking her weapon store. Satisfied with the available ones, she nodded to Cloud and strode past him out of Seventh Heaven.

* * *

They rode in preferable silence. They'd always been this way. Even when the Deyanira spread thin and fiercely drove back following parties, as AVALANCHE made a break for it, there was never words to be passed, to be misunderstood. As long as secrets remained secrets, they would have no need to kill each other over them. This had always seemed to be the best way to deal with employers.

Being a woman, she was constantly aware of the defiance of the rules made by her to head a group of rag-tag assassins. Her gender and thus her role had always been in question, but never with the Deyanira themselves. For the longest time, the Deyanira had been headed by ladies. First it started with her great-grandmother, Derilise, and then her grandmother, Nan to her, Demie to her subordinates, and then her mother Dayne. Their lives and their gender had made Deyanira what it was, stealthy, seductive, and successful.

At the moment, riding slightly behind and to the side of Cloud, the position did not facilitate much discussion. Cloud dropped his pace once they left the city of Edge, falling into pace with her own black motorbike. She likewise dropped hers and they cruised comfortably over the landscape.

"Who are you, Daisha?"

_Oh no, he's asking __**the**__ question. Just like all the others._

"What do you mean?"

_That's it. Beat him at his own game of secrets._

"I mean," Cloud's eyebrows furrowed. "Where did you come from? Why are you so great at combat? Why are you the leader of a group of trained killers?"

"Do I sense a bit of gender bias?" Her sarcasm saved her from answers.

"It's not everyday that one sees a woman heading a group so formidably called the Destroyers."

"Done your research, haven't you?" Daisha sighed. "It is difficult to explain. But think of us, the Deyanira, as hired killers. We help in combat for a price. As you have seen during you chase of Sephiroth."

"Do you work for anyone now? You were strangely away for the whole day yesterday, Tifa told me you came back after midnight."

"Why should it bother you? After all, I'm long past the age of having a curfew. And my employers would prefer secrecy."

"Are you never faithful to one organisation? AVALANCHE would prefer if you stayed with us to help."

"We are faithful to the extent of an organisation's purse. We are **hired **assassins. We work for the money."

"Have you no ideals? No sense of right and wrong? Don't you only join the ones that further your cause?"

"What cause is that? We are people, gifted in an art that isn't really accepted by our-"

She cut off her sentence, hearing the faintest pounding of feet. The two of them locked eyes and shut their mouths and swerved their bikes around to catch the Canyon's monsters head to head.

The monsters had deformed over time, after the Meteor had forced several known species to mutate and evolve into new creatures which dealt out more damage than before. Daisha mumbled a curse or two as she brandished her daggers and felt Cloud sweep out his huge sword.

After the months she spent with AVALANCHE and helping them fend off attackers, she had had her fair share of group combat with Cloud and the rest (though Vincent's attack strategies were hard to follow). Her dagger glinted in the sun's heated rays as they flew towards the mutants. The first one embedded itself, all 7 inches, deep into the underbelly of one of them, the monster falling, almost shocked that it was dead, as blood flowed out of the jagged wound.

The second remained in her right hand (after transferring it from her left hand), and she leapt off her motorbike, allowing it to skid to a stop nearby. Cloud battled off two others at the corner of her eye, but her efforts were solely focused on the remaining blue-furred creature. She landed on its back as it pounded towards her, and in its moment of shock, she stabbed the dagger into the back of its neck and a crack was heard. The entire creature sank to the ground as she stepped off and retrieved her other knife.

Returning to where Cloud was getting rid of blood from his sword, she stepped gracefully over the two limp bodies, righted her bike, sheathed the daggers after wiping them, and started the engine. In about a minute, Cloud had caught up with her, much to her dismay. Now the conversation would continue.

Whether it was because of the heat of the battle, or because Cloud had contracted short-term memory loss, he declined to question anymore, leaving them in silence for the rest of their uneventful ride to some unknown delivery point.

* * *

"Reno."

_Damn. The boss always seems to get me when I take out my cigs. Give it a break already, not like we're Turks anymore..._

"Yeah?" Reno drawled boredly, playing around with the unlit cigarette before slipping it back into his pocket.

"I got a package today from Strife. He came with someone...Care to explain?" Rufus' eyes glinted dangerously.

_Not a good sign. Play it smooth. Play it __**real**__ smooth..._

"Uhh...I don't know what you're talking about?" His statement turned into a question and all hopes of getting away and getting to smoke went down the hatch.

_Well done Reno. That gives you an "F" at following your brain's commands._

"Let Tseng here refresh your memory, shall we?" It was at times like this, Reno wondered if Rufus had ever changed at all after the ShinRa incident.

Tseng stepped forward, his monotonous voice hinting amusement.

"Red hair, brown eyes, devilish temper, head of the Deyanira, was here yesterday, followed Strife here today."

_Shoot. Don't say it. Don't say it..._

Rufus looked at the list Tseng had in his hand.

"You missed one."

Tseng's eyebrows lifted and fell in a matter of milli-seconds.

"Cool bike." His tone was rather relunctant.

_Dang._

Reno groaned inwardly. How do you tell your superiors, much less boss and HOD, about a past you're supposed to have forgotten?

_Avoid the question, avoid the question..._

"Well?"

_Damn, any luck of avoidance has just disappeared._

Reno was forced, by habit, to turn around, to find it was not just his boss and Tseng to tell, but in the background, Rude and Elena stood expectantly.

"You know, your hair colour isn't exactly common." Elena blurted. Reno glared at her.

_Great, no escape now. Lie? Or truth?_

He sighed, hardly the common sound coming from him.

"She's my sister."

At that point, four pairs of eyebrows could have hit the ceiling, if it wasn't for the fact that they were trained Turks and Son of the (long-dead) President.

_I've already dropped the bombshell, might as well tell it all._

"Our mother used to head Deyanira in its exploits, and then when she died last week," collective intake of breath "Daisha succeeded her. I left home when I was 18, came to join ShinRa, and she's hated me ever since." He ended off jovially enough, to fake the fact he wasn't bothered by it.

_Can they stop looking at me like that?_

He passed out of the room before they had a chance to further question him.

He didn't even have any more answers.

* * *

**A/N: See? Reno is ashamed of himself too. Maybe in the next chapters, I'll be expanding on his background too. But I'm not sure if I can post anytime soon. But at least, this had a bit of humour, so it's better than back to back angst.  
**

**Until then,**

**Moiranne Rose (still not begging, just wishing)**


	11. Chapter 9

The Bonds that Bind !-- page size: 8.5in 11in; margin: 0.79in P margin-bottom: 0.08in --

**The Bonds that Bind**

**Chapter 9: Reflections on a Hatred**

**Chapter Summary: In which Daisha realizes there's a bit more to her past than she's ever been told.**

**Short note: For the readers of this humble little story, thanks for telling me about it. I feel less insignificant whenever I get a review.**

* * *

She had just gotten back from the trip out to the Ruins. She sank into the bar counter seat she normally took. She was not exhausted, just puzzled. The person that the delivery had been for was somehow commanding, and had the aura of one she had, or should have, met. And Cloud had called him by name. Did they know each other?

Granted, she didn't know much about AVALANCHE's exploits before and after the brief period they had worked together. If AVALANCHE had had previous liaisons before them, it was not like she'd go and research it. She just accepted that she didn't know some things. Like the reason for Cloud's fetish for the Church in the Slums. Like Tifa's never-ending struggle to show Cloud her feelings. Was it all so obvious that she, who'd lived a complicated life from the start, couldn't see why?

She remembered the first time she had met AVALANCHE.

They'd been coming back from the North Crater, the so-called Promised Land. This being after the Slums had been crushed by the dropping of the Plate, her mother had moved the entire group to Nibelheim, which had supposedly been growing at the time.

Sometime on the way there, Dayne (she would never be "Mum" in her eyes) and her army met with Cloud and AVALANCHE. The team was being hotly pursued by attackers assumed to be from ShinRa. The complication was that AVALANCHE was trying to pursue Sephiroth and had no time to deal with foes lurking behind them. Whether it was by money or by goodness, Dayne agreed to lend her forces to force back the ShinRa operatives. In doing so, AVALANCHE escaped without harm and continued on their quest.

A time after that, the Deyanira returned to Edge and started lives outside of their fearsome dagger-wielding images. They were now reporters, office workers, chefs. Every one of them still contributed to their society, and this time, it was without payment, except that of profits.

Her forehead creased and her lips compressed as she mulled over those thoughts. There were times when she wished she could do the same. Simplify her life. But that was close to impossible. Her life wrapped itself around complications. Tanto-wielding was no simple task. Her own aversion to eating was yet to be concluded. And the only thing that had kept her alive all these years, her hatred, had yet to dissipate.

The door opened. Thinking it was Tifa coming back from grocery shopping, she pulled herself up to help her with the bags and bags of things she normally procured after a once-through of Edge's markets.

But the door did not reveal the dark-haired, food-bearing martial arts fighter. It revealed a dark-haired, red-cloak-flapping gunner. She stared blankly.

_How anticlimactic..._

She made no move as he took the place next to her; she felt like he could just look at her and find her innermost secrets. In fact, there were times when it seemed like Vincent knew her as well as she knew herself." His perception of the human mind was not unknown.

"You were with Cloud today."

She made a noncommittal sound. "It was a delivery to the Ruins. He needed help, I needed practice."

"To Rufus, I presume?"

She whirled around on the swivel seat.

_How the...what the...is he spying on me?_

"You know him?"

"He was the President of ShinRa, before it collapsed. Hardly one you'd forget."

Vincent had gotten up and moved behind the counter, seemingly looking for something.

"We just supplied Rufus ShinRa, the former President of a godforsaken company that's bent on killing the world, a package that looked bulky enough to hold cannons?"

Vincent chose to disregard the comment and withdrew from the cabinet behind the counter a round of ammunition, decisively clicking it into the barrel of Cerberus.

_Great, now I'm in the same room as an armed gunner who seems to be stalking me?_

"You'll be going out again, no?"

_Yup, he's stalking me._

"Yeah. When I really don't need to see him again..." Her head creased into furrows again, her mind trying to reject the image of a certain redhead.

"Him?"

In that moment, Daisha knew she had stupidly crossed the line of secrecy. She never talked about Reno to anyone. Sadly, her mind never seemed to be able to catch up with her mouth.

"Hmm? Nothing..."

_Yeah, that's **so** convincing..._

His red eyes from behind the cape bore into hers. She conceded defeat within seconds of exposure.

_Damn Vincent's holier-than-thou attitude._

"It's something. But it's not like I'll tell you. You don't even know me!" The shame at revealing one of her best kept secrets fueled a passionate rage.

"I do know you. Or rather, I knew your mother. And you are a lot like her."

She was undone. Her mind fazed.

_Who, what, how?_

"You knew...my _mother_?"

_Wow, I think that took top spot in "How shocked can Daisha get?" category._

He swept his cloaked figure onto the seat opposite her.

"Yes."

_When you don't want him to talk, he talks. When you want him to talk, he shuts up._

"You knew my mother?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"She was wanted by the Turks, even during my time."

"What was it like hunting her?" Dayne (again, the discomfort using the affectionate name "Mum" rose up again)

"...she was the first one we hunted to turn down the offer."

"Wait, she just turned it down? And you just let her?"

Vincent shook his head slightly. "She had tremendous spirit. She survived our torture."

"Oh? So... what happened afterward? Did she fall off your radar or something?"

He shook his head again, almost impatiently. "Her life was not a mystery to us. We continued to track her until she retaliated."

"Retaliated? How?"

Vincent's eyes stared. "She stabbed one of our men."

"So you just gave up then?"

"The President realized it was not worth the trouble to continue."

_I guess our family has a knack at doing that..._

"How old are you?" She wondered out loud.

"Older than you'll ever be. And I have had time to examine people and how they think. Know this: sometimes, if you hold onto what you used to think long enough, you'll never want to let go, even when it has long become irrelevant. And the people you once knew no longer fit in to the plan. People change. Your view of them might have to change, too."

_What? Advice? Who is he to tell me that?_

He swooped out of the room, billowing cape disappearing as the claw grasped the door knob and closed it without a sound. She stood in his wake, bewildered, before checking the time and going up to sort out matters about her feelings, her insecurities, and whether, maybe, Vincent had once again hit the bull's eye.

* * *

**A/N: Whoohoo, let's make that Chapter 9 down, a thousand more examinations and Chapter 10 onwards to go. My life is brilliant. (note sarcasm)  
**

**Moiranne Rose**


End file.
